In Which Nothing Unusual Happens
by Lord Kristine
Summary: Just a perfectly ordinary day with no surprises whatsoever.


"You're supposed to be the smartest dinosaur, right? How about you help me with my tax returns?"

The pile of miscellaneous documents grew a foot taller as the dragon dropped a stack of envelopes on top, causing the whole thing to sway precariously. Beneath it, a Troödon gazed at the teetering structure nervously, then decided it was probably not going to topple over for the time being.

"I wasn't aware dragons had to pay taxes," he remarked.

"And I wasn't aware dinosaurs think it wise to question dragons. Hop to it, wise guy."

The Troödon sighed as the dragon slithered out of the room, then decided to browse her newest documents to determine if anything was time sensitive. Most of the papers were stamped with instructions that stated they must be submitted by January, but unfortunately, the multiple January's of return dated all the way back to 1986. The poor Troödon expected as much, but was grateful that he had at least been lucky enough to avoid the customary taco that inexplicably appeared between records, perhaps one of many entries in a series of forgotten lunches. Of course, it was relatively hard to file a taco by accident, so that was only a theory.

As he brushed his paw over the top leaflet, he noticed a thin layer of golden-yellow parchment that broke the spectrum of off-white. He pinched the paper between two claws and pulled it out gingerly, and was surprised to see fresh ink crossing the page in realtime, and more shocking still, the resulting text was narrating his actions. It didn't take him long to realize that the dragon had left her manuscript behind, which meant-

"People are reading this right now and they probably have no idea what's going on!"

He stood up and kicked his rolling chair away with one clawed foot.

"I need to get this back to her as soon as possible!"

Turning his head every which way to decide the proper manner to address an audience without a particular set direction, he cleared his throat.

"You should probably ignore this. Once I find the dragon, she'll turn off the narration, but for now, try not to read anything."

He rolled the paper in his talons, then flapped his arms until he lifted off the ground with the grace of a partly-deflated windmill decoration. After a rather unpleasant encounter with the closed side of a duel window, he found the right exit and soared away from the office tower. It was then, at approximately eighty-six feet of altitude, that he remembered Troödons weren't supposed to fly. In a matter of seconds, he plummeted towards the earth in a sharp swan dive, and eventually made contact with the lawn in much the same way as a javelin. He remained rigidly stuck in the ground (up to the top of his snout, anyway) until he was pulled out by a spinosaurus.

"You okay, little guy?"

He coughed up a chunk of dirt, then brushed himself off casually.

"I was under the impression that the aerodynamics of my feathers, while not as consistent as naked wings, was at least equivalent to that of a flamingo, but I do believe that it is impossible for dinosaurs to fly."

"What about birds? And Claire?"

The Troödon blinked.

"Well, in theory, my genetic code may be highly irregular, which would provide a reasonable excuse."

The spinosaur narrowed his eyes.

"Haven't I seen you fly before?"

"You may very well think that, but I couldn't possibly comment."

He whipped around and trotted away without another word, tail bouncing like a wire with a ping pong ball attached to it. He scanned the area for any sign of his dragon employer, but was disappointed to find no pawprints or still-burning objects. Instead, he came across a hybrid dinosaur with white wings. She was chewing on cud, and looked very tired. He cleared his throat and stood in front of her with a sophisticated air.

"Pardon me, but would you be willing to use your magic to locate my boss? As much as I dislike your universe-breaking abilities, this is a situation that requires a quick fix."

She chewed a little longer before swallowing to free up her mouth.

"No need. I saw her go into the VC a few minutes ago."

"That's miles away! How did you get here so quickly?"

"I made a quick stop in Asterpara, then decided to come back to a different part of the island."

"Why?"

"This is my favorite patch of grass."

"No, why did you visit Asterpara?"

"I had to evaluate the Army of Peace. They still haven't found their-"

"I'm sure they'll do just fine on their own."

Wasting no more time, the Troödon continued his journey across the island. Along the way, he suffered minor injuries whilst taking shortcuts through the jungle. A few yards shy of the Visitors' Center, he emerged from a bush with a coat of burs blanketing his back, as well as several bee stings on one foot and what looked like a rash on his neck, which was concerning because he wasn't sure dinosaurs were supposed to get rashes. In any case, he trotted into the building to take care of business, ignoring the bare spot on his leg that he had only now noticed. The lights were out, and this puzzled him greatly until he was startled by a loud cheer.

"SURPRISE!"

The room was suddenly illuminated by colored lights, and a poorly-placed confetti cannon sent him flying backwards. Stunned, he lay on his back, eyes wide. A grinning dragon in a party hat peered down at him gleefully, blowing a noisemaker, which promptly caught on fire. Ash rained on the still-recumbent dinosaur's face.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

He continued to lie on the polished stone, then blinked for longer than was natural.

"It has come to my attention that you used the manuscript to lure me to a surprise birthday party," he stated.

"Yeah! Isn't it great?"

He said nothing for a moment, then blinked again.

"I don't mean to detract from the festive mood, but I have various surface wounds that may need professional care and I'm pretty sure a piece of confetti has forcefully entered my left lung."

"Oh."

He sighed.

"Ignoring that, this was very kind of you. I didn't expect you to remember."

She smiled.

"Well, you deserve all the love in the world for being so selfless. I'm lucky to have you."

They shared a warm gaze, taking in the tender moment with a rare sense of mutual respect and fondness. Then the Troödon leaned back and stared at the ceiling with pea-sized pupils.

"The confetti has created a laceration in my lung-tissue and fluid is leaking in at an alarming rate."


End file.
